


I Just Want to Hug You

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Carlos Reyes Needs a Hug (9-1-1 Lonestar), Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Light Angst, M/M, POV Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), TK Strand Needs A Hug, That's it, literally those two tags are the fic, poor boy is WORRIED, that's the whole thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: He knows what should come next, can picture TK sprinting through the doorway and running across the lawn, the adrenaline not yet worn off as he bounds over to talk to his dad.He’ll be out, any second now.Any moment, TK will come through the door.Any …Second …Now …
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 16
Kudos: 186
Collections: The Tarlos Variable





	I Just Want to Hug You

**Author's Note:**

> So. I/we did a thing: four people, three days, the same prompt, no collaboration. Just to see what we came up with. This is what I came up with.

Carlos turns away from his police car, leaning up against the driver’s side door so he can focus on something other than the red and blue bursts flashing against the night sky. He’s can still see emergency lights, but at least the fire truck is parked a little further away, so they’re not quite so glaringly bright. There’s a fire in the distance, but the orange flames look dull compared to the flashing lights, so he’s hardly aware of it, other than that it’s where the 126 had all run when they’d pulled up just ahead of him. 

He’d waited until the truck was positioned, then parked sideways to block the road and control traffic around the scene. It’s his least favorite part of the job, or, it was until he met TK. Now traffic control for AFD is an excuse to stand around and get paid to watch his boyfriend be a hero. One corner of his mouth curls up, an automatic response whenever he starts thinking about TK. 

But he’s pulled from his daydreams – night dreams? It’s close to 10:30, but he’s awake, so he’s pretty sure they’re still daydreams – by a sickening crack as part of the roof gives way to the roaring flames. 

Carlos can’t hear what’s going on, is standing too far away to really see much other than the silhouette of Captain Strand against the raging fire. He watches the captain take a half-step toward the house, then abort the gesture and reach for his radio instead. 

He’s not sure what’s being said, but he can imagine the evacuation order, the last chance to get out safely. He can practically hear Owen’s voice, commanding the scene without giving any indication of the worry he must be feeling, just from having talked to the man so many times before. 

One by one, shadowy people come through the front door, running close enough that Carlos can recognize them: Judd, pulling his mask off for a gulp of cool night air as soon as he’s far enough away that it’s safe; Marjan, quick on her feet as she hops over a flowerbed in front of the porch; Mateo, shifting his helmet to the crook of one arm so he can run a hand through his short hair; Paul cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders like he has every time Carlos has seen him come out of a burning building. 

He knows what should come next, can picture TK sprinting through the doorway and running across the lawn, the adrenaline not yet worn off as he bounds over to talk to his dad. 

He’ll be out, any second now. 

Any moment, TK will come through the door. 

Any … 

Second … 

Now … 

But he doesn’t appear in that second, or the second after, or the one after that. 

Carlos folds his arms tight across his chest, squeezing himself as tightly as he can around the bulletproof vest. He flicks his gaze away from the house, sees Captain Strand looking around anxiously as he counts the rest of his team. He can pinpoint the moment when Owen comes up one head short again, when it becomes obvious that TK was more than just a few steps behind. 

Everyone else is realizing it too, looking at the house and each other as Owen reaches for his radio again. 

He shouldn’t do it, is the thing. Carlos knows that he shouldn’t reach for the dial on his own radio, shouldn’t flick it away from the APD channel. He’s on traffic control, not out of service, so he’s running the risk of not hearing a higher priority call come out. If he’s not listening to his radio, he could miss an officer down, or a shooting, or whatever else might happen. 

But there are other cops in Austin, other units to respond. Besides, he justifies to himself, it won’t be more than a few seconds, just long enough to hear what’s going on. And with every passing moment, the odds of something serious having happened to TK are increasing. Why should he worry about a possible officer down, when there’s a probable firefighter down right in front of him? When that firefighter is TK Strand? 

So he finds the tiny dial at his waist, rolls it between two fingers until he hears Owen’s voice crackle to life. 

“-And. Come in, TK.” He’s losing the calm in his voice, and Carlos can see it in his demeanor too. “TK. Call out! _TK, answer me!”_

By the end of the radio call, Owen is practically screaming into his handset. His voice is loud enough to carry toward Carlos, echoing in his radio. 

Then, there’s silence. It’s completely quiet, save for the fire burning in the background, like the whole team is collectively holding its breath and waiting for a response. 

Nothing happens, though. No voice over the radio, no sign of TK on the front lawn, not even the distant wail of a PASS alarm. Carlos’ heart pounds in his chest, but the 126 isn't panicking yet, so neither will he. 

No matter how much he might want to. 

He hears Owen calling TK’s name into the radio again, but all of a sudden, it’s too much; the dead air in between is more than he can take, so he rolls his radio back to the APD channel, where a unit is dispatching to a minor car accident across town. 

Don’t they know that there are more important things than a fender bender? Don’t they realize that everything Carlos had ever set his sights on – a happy relationship, someone who understands what he does for a living and loves him even with those risks, _because_ of those risks – is hanging in the balance right now, could be literally going up in flames? 

And they’re responding to a car accident, like nothing else is wrong in the world. 

Everything spins to silence around him, the lights flashing memories across the pavement, of the few short months he and TK have known each other. Carlos leans back against the cruiser, letting it take his body weight before he drops to his knees right there in the street. 

The next two minutes are the longest of his life. Longer than when he was five years old and waiting for his father to come tell him that he had a new baby sister, longer than he’d waited for his academy acceptance letter, longer than the hours he’d spent in the hospital waiting for TK to wake up, longer than when he’d thought TK was going to walk away from everything he’d built in Austin. 

But then, as suddenly as everything had slowed down, Carlos’ world starts turning again. 

Because TK is stumbling out the front door, arms wrapped around a Golden Shepard who doesn't seem to understand that this stranger is trying to rescue him. The dog is squirming in his arms, and Carlos watches as TK simultaneously almost trips off the steps _and_ nearly drops the animal. All at once, the rest of the 126 realizes what’s happening and rushes forward to help. 

Paul gets the dog wrangled down to the ground, a hand wrapped around his collar as he guides him over to the truck. Judd and Mateo steer TK toward Owen, standing in the middle of the yard, then grab the hoses and start working on what’s left of the blaze. 

Carlos hardly pays any notice to that, though, his focus trained almost entirely on TK. Owen catches his son by the wrists and pulls the helmet from his head. It drops to the ground, and Carlos’ mind supplies the sound it makes as it hits, the sort of dull thud that makes him wonder how it’s meant to protect a firefighter’s skull. 

There's no time to worry about that now. Not when the helmet has clearly done its job, and Owen is following up, running his hands across the back of TK’s head and pushing his chin down far enough that he can see if there’s any blood. There must not be, because he’s quickly moving on to pat down TK’s turnout coat, turning him this way and that, inspecting his son’s gear for signs of damage underneath. 

Carlos only realizes that he’s taken a few steps forward when his boot catches against the curb. He’s still too far away to be noticed, just a couple of paces from the front of the squad car, but now he can see the way TK is cooperating, letting Owen reassure himself that his son is alright. He moves complacently, the expression on his face softening away from his mild irritation as Owen finishes his inspection and pulls TK in for a hug. He wraps his arms around his dad’s middle, clapping him twice on the back before Owen pushes him away from the embrace. 

He reaches up for TK’s shoulders, holding tightly enough that Carlos can see the indentations his fingers are leaving in the back of TK’s turnout jacket. He can’t hear what Owen is saying, but the look on his face says more than enough, and Carlos is selfishly glad that he’s not close enough to hear. He knows how intimidating it can be when Owen gets all cold and focused like he seems to be now, and he’d just as soon not be on the receiving end of that again. 

It had been bad enough when Owen had read him the preemptive riot act the first time they all had dinner together. 

But when Carlos refocuses, Owen’s got his arms wrapped around his son again, hugging him tightly before nudging him toward the back end of the truck, where Carlos knows there’s a cache of bottled water. He stumbles a little bit, but Owen doesn’t notice, is already back in captain-mode, watching the rest of his team as they hose out the last bits of flame. 

He doesn’t think TK is injured, knows Owen wouldn’t have stopped fussing over him if he had been. But he’s clearly shaken up, and he’s effectively been put in time-out. 

_Screw it; they don’t need him to stand here by the car. The lights are plenty visible, and he’s needed elsewhere._

It doesn't take long for him to be standing right behind TK, who’s totally oblivious to Carlos’ presence as he roots around in the truck compartment for a bottle of water. Carlos waits for him to have the metal door slid closed again, then loops his arms gently around TK’s waist. 

He startles, jumping as far away from Carlos as he can without hitting into the side of the engine as he turns around. For a moment, Carlos regrets the move, remembers that TK has been through a lot, even just tonight, and wishes he’d have waited to announce his presence. But he can’t take it back now; all he can do is step away far enough that TK won’t feel so crowded. 

“Carlos?” There’s something in TK’s tone that he can’t pick out, keyed up and defensive from more than just the adrenaline. 

“TK,” he breathes, by way of a response, the relief hitting him as soon as TK had opened his mouth. It’s like the fight drops out of him all at once, the moment he knows TK is here, and alive, and safe. 

But then TK is bristling, his shoulders going rigid even underneath the heavy weight of his coat. He draws himself up to his full height, trying to compensate for the couple of inches Carlos has over him. His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing before he speaks. 

“If you’re here to tell me that I screwed up, I don’t want to hear it,” he bites the words out. “I know, OK? I know I should have radioed. I know I should have come back when Cap called. I _know!_ I-” 

“I just want to hug you.” Carlos cuts him off, holding both hands up in front of him. “You … you look like you could use it, and … I know I could.” 

“What?” 

“When everyone else came out of there and you didn’t, I … God, Teek. I couldn’t _breathe._ So yeah, I could use a hug. If … if you’re up for it.” 

Carlos holds his breath again, waiting for TK to respond. He’s finally able to exhale when TK relaxes, easing back down to his normal posture as he realizes that Carlos isn’t upset with him. 

He wonders what Owen would possibly have said to spook TK this badly, so much that he’ll hardly let Carlos touch him. Usually, he’s looking for any excuse for contact, so whatever it is, it must have struck a nerve. 

But Carlos can’t dwell on that now, because TK is shrugging out of his jacket, shoving the sleeves down his arms until it drops away, freeing him from the bulky weight. 

Carlos watches carefully, waiting until TK steps forward and wraps one of his arms around Carlos’ neck. He moves on instinct, snaking his own arms around TK’s waist and pulling him in close. He buries his face in the side of TK’s neck, and he takes a deep breath. TK’s other hand finds purchase on his shoulder, winding around his back and holding Carlos tightly. 

TK smells like smoke and sweat, and just a hint of his body wash, crisp and clean when Carlos presses his nose closer into TK’s skin. He runs his hand up and down TK’s back, relishing in the strong muscles beneath his fingers as he lets out a shaky breath. TK slides his hand around until he’s clinging to the back of Carlos’ vest, fingertips pushing the material of his uniform shirt underneath the edge of the Kevlar. 

It’s not a particularly comfortable embrace. Carlos’ radio is digging into both of their chests, and the added bulk from his duty belt means that their legs won’t slot together like they usually do. Still, it’s enough for now, enough for them both to relax against each other. 

Carlos takes another deep breath, pursing his lips to press a barely-there kiss against TK’s neck. A little bit more tension bleeds out of his shoulders as he rolls onto his tiptoes, balancing the difference in their heights again by letting Carlos support some of his weight. They’re quiet, the physical contact between them saying more than words ever could. 

It’s exactly what they both need. 

Until all of a sudden, there’s a shrill _whoop_ from behind them. They both jump and look toward the noise, and TK rolls his eyes when he sees Owen laughing from behind the wheel of the fire truck. Judd leans out the window and smacks his hand against the side of the vehicle. 

“C’mon, brother! In the truck or call an Uber!” 

They’re all laughing as TK and Carlos untangle their limbs and step back. 

“Finish this later?” Carlos leans forward to brush a gentle kiss to TK’s lips, both of them smiling against each other’s mouths. 

“Later.” TK squeezes his fingers and climbs into the truck. 

Carlos is smiling as the fire engine pulls away, watching the tail lights fade until all that’s left are the flashing lights on his own vehicle. 

And as he turns them off, there’s only one thought circling through his mind. 

_Even if TK scares him half to death sometimes, there’s no place in the world he’d rather be than safe in his arms._

**Author's Note:**

> This was FUN. I dunno about everyone else, but I want to go again, so be on the lookout for that in the future!


End file.
